December 2009
3 posts
false idol hypocrisy
Snow has somehow crept into the conversation
From the light sprinkling of sarcasm
in the last few statements
made with jutting chin
a wordstorm blankets me
exhalations accompanying
angry spittle-flecks
head buffet
your breath makes me wish for cover
dragon-like steam and sulfur
But then every conversation in the
last two decades has been this way
dogma replacing fact
you are so...
cubitize
my cube seems smaller, then I remember that forty years ago all rooms were small cubes
and no one really sat in them or did anything rather they went out and drank whiskey
little thinking time back then; and surprise now its the same
so many ways to read the same story
like a gnome wrote it all and we are all cursed to syndicate
but such hexes don’t exist except in reality
since...
in the cold, hard ground
on the anniversary of my father’s passing, october 26, 2005
_______
we are all waiting to die
my feet begin to feel numb
no one is thinking of me
fading here
_______
sunlight-filled voices outside
but not visible
dreamy semi consciousness
morphine enhanced to pleasantry
_______
can’t smell myself
but see noses wrinkle
as they enter
the sick zone
_______
piss and spit...